Over a Bottle of Rum

Let not the sun go down on our blood-flooded field
and the stars, shine its heart on our river of bones.
Though our souls be drunk with bitterness, let’s live
and on this night, in the bowels of rum, bury our grief.

Let us over a bottle of rum wriggle to the melody of love;
dancing dizzily into dreams of cute cupids.
Let us roll over our lances and our clubs put away.
This pub-sermon says “Love over a bottle of rum is the only way”.

Let us over a bottle of rum sing pirate songs;
stumping our feet in harmony with crashing cups.
Let us curdle in circles to march the devils away.
This pub-sermon says “Love over a bottle of rum is the only way”.

Let us over a bottle of rum settle our turbulent seas;
popping with slaps the hunch of our swollen heads.
Let us play the angry drunks but first metal shells put away.
This pub-sermon says “Love over a bottle of rum is the only way”.

Let us over a bottle of rum play like cradle-swing Kids;
putting paper pods in toy turrets; brewing hate in a game of sides
and on this night, In the bowels of rum, bury our grief
for if a scar is left in war and the beauty of peace is far lost,
a million barrels of gunpowder shall puff and nay do the makeup.